


Flight not fight

by Izwedgw8



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: 74th, Adrenaline, Arena, Desperate, Emotional, Escape, Fear, Games, Gen, Hunted, Internal Monologue, Monologue, Run, Tribute, careers, flee, flight, hide - Freeform, hunger, move, scared, thoughts, woods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 04:10:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19191595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izwedgw8/pseuds/Izwedgw8
Summary: An internal monologue style piece from the point of view of a tribute being hunted through the forest in the 74th annual hunger games.





	Flight not fight

**Author's Note:**

> The style of this is me experimenting with trying to write the voice of our conscience with which we talk to ourselves in our minds. Think internal monologue of a high adrenaline, terrified and vulnerable tribute. Love to know your thoughts, enjoy!

Run.  
Running  
Faster, faster, faster  
Breathe and run  
1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3  
Move your feet  
Deep breathes: in, out, in, out and run  
faster. 

Don’t you dare stop.  
Keep your head, keep on your feet and keep moving.  
1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3  
go go go go  
Ignore the burning. Ignore the ache, the niggles, the strains. Ignore the sting of the foliage as it snaps back to your face, whipping the exposed skin on your arms and ankles.  
Just keep running. 

Not much longer. Can’t hear them anymore. But then again, breathing too ragged to hear properly over gulping breathes and trampled undergrowth pounded by frantic footfalls.  
Just a bit further.  
Another minute. Another five. Maybe ten - just to be sure.

There  
(where the trees are denser)  
There we can hide. There we can learn, we can orientate.  
One last push…

Quiet now.  
Hushhhh  
Come on lungs, function like you were made for air.  
If this were a game of hide and seek I’d be stood behind the dressing gown hung on the back of the door with a hand clapped over my mouth absolutely certain that I sounded, to the seeker, as if I had chain smoked fifty a day for the last millennia and they had a microphone taped across my sweaty upper lip. 

Back pressed to a thick tree trunk.  
It’s solidity is oddly comforting.  
The bark is rough and unwieldy.  
A dark brown.  
The pain of flesh to wood is grounding.  
Nature’s cheese grater.  
Ha!  
Stop it.

Okay…

No one left, no one right, no one straight, tree behind  
No one up, no one straight, ground below

Good.

Listen.  
Shut up pulse, shut up breath. Get out of my head. Or rather, give my head space. Give my mind space. Damn you  
No, don’t panic  
Breeaaathe  
I can’t, I can’t, what if they’re here, I don’t believe I lost them, but I was running for a while, but they will be catching up and then I won’t be able to lose them again. I can’t hide. I can’t stop breathing. They’ll get me here and the trees aren’t good for climbing, besides have to eat, or sleep, or escape 

You’re being Paranoid.  
Can’t be paranoid if the threat it real.  
Smart arse

I won’t let them get me

Snap.  
Freeze.

IN move OUT run IN go OUT faster IN…

An upturned root, a stone, a stifled scream.  
Black

.


End file.
